


Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls

by sprinkle_of_cinnamon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Awkwardness, Clint is a gift, Cop AU, Cop!Bucky is a thing to behold and everyone knows it, F/M, Fury as police chief is done with everything and everyone, Graffiti, Gratuitous Titanic References, Humor, M/M, Sam Wilson is a motivational cat poster, nat is awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6492823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprinkle_of_cinnamon/pseuds/sprinkle_of_cinnamon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's graffiti outside the Stark Gallery. It's not Banksy. </p>
<p>The Cop/Artist AU with all the Titanic references that no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint Me Like One of Your French Girls

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this happened. I don't actually know much about police protocol or art, but I do know about sassy dialogue.
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel is Marvel is Marvel and not mine at all.

Bucky held up his fingers with a bored expression as Nat flicked a perfectly folded paper football through the goal. It landed with a soft thump on his lap, and he raised his eyebrows at her. “That’s another two-pointer.”

She lifted a hand in recognition and leaned back in her chair. “As usual, I’m winning.”

“Barnes, Romanoff, glad to see you’re working hard,” Chief Fury said dryly as he walked to his office.

“We are. Thank you for recognizing that, sir,” Nat called after their boss.

Bucky gave his partner a fondly exasperated look. “Did you file the arrest report for the Retter case?”

Nat inspected her nails carefully. “Yeah, but you’ve got to go to the evidence locker because the D.A. requested lab analysis for the blood samples.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I’ve got to do that?”

She flashed him an entirely unsympathetic smile and waved him away.

Bucky came back after searching for the blood samples in the evidence locker for half an hour. It would have gone a lot faster if Rumlow knew how to label boxes.

Nat wasn’t at her desk when he sat down, so he resigned himself to getting the stack of paperwork on his desk taken care of. Bucky wasn’t sure how long he was working before he looked up with bleary eyes when Chief Fury cleared his throat. He jerked at the noise and sent a pile of the papers fluttering to the ground. Bucky was truly impressed how a man with only one visible eye could convey so much judgment.

“When was your last traffic patrol?” his boss asked, after Bucky picked the papers back up. He worked on getting the edges all lined up while scrambling to come up with an answer.

He hated traffic patrol. Everyone was either furious about being pulled over or horribly inappropriate. If he didn’t ever have to write another ‘solicitation of an officer’ ticket during a traffic stop it would be a miracle. Whenever he complained to Nat she just pinched his cheeks and told him it was because he was fulfilling everyone’s hot cop fantasies by existing. No one ever hit on Nat during traffic stops. Mostly because when it looked they were about to try, she glared at them like she was going to disembowel them, and enjoy the process.

“Uh—,” Bucky began hesitantly when Nat returned to her desk and interrupted.

“Sorry boss, I need him. Just got a call from Hawkeye Security. They’ve got an incident over at Stark Gallery,” she said reaching for her badge and sidearm from the desk drawer.

Fury nodded severely. “Alright, and be polite. Stark’s a pain in the ass, but his donations are more than generous. He’s the reason we got to upgrade to hazelnut coffee.”

“I’m always polite,” Bucky sniffed, and both Nat and Fury ignored him.

“Sir, I’ll do it for the hazelnut,” Nat assured their boss.

  
•

The gates swung open at Hawkeye Security headquarters and Bucky looked around suspiciously. Barton was top of his field. He was also a childhood friend of Nat’s, making him a friend by default. That didn’t change the fact that Barton was a total weirdo. He was the type to set an ambush for visitors, and he definitely had done that before. It took weeks for the effects of the tear gas to wear off, and Bucky lost his favorite jacket to the incident. Which was nothing compared to Nat’s reaction to getting empty rounds lodged in her new shoes.

While Bucky was scanning the perimeter, Nat rolled her eyes and walked up to open the front door. She gestured for him to go inside. “Chill out. I told Clint if he tried to pull that on us again I would break every single one of his crossbows. He nearly cried.”

Bucky nodded and walked inside, but he still didn’t relax. He spotted Barton sitting up in the rafters, his legs swinging. “Hey, guys!”

Nat waved as she went to go take a seat around the conference table. She popped open a can of soda from the mini fridge and tossed a can to Bucky as he sat down across from her. Barton dropped down from the ceiling and she threw one more can for him.

Barton plopped himself right on top of the table. “Thanks for coming. I’m just waiting for Bruce and Thor to get down here.”

Bucky grabbed a pack of the fruit snacks from the middle of the table. He was sometimes concerned that Barton was in charge of a hugely successful, private security firm, but Clint knew what he was doing. He was simultaneously an endearing menace and absolutely terrifying. Bruce joined them with a welcoming smile. He pushed his glasses further up his nose before snatching his own pack of fruit snacks and greeting everyone. Thor bounded in moments later.

He pulled Nat into a hug and dragged Bucky in next. “It’s always great to see you two!” he announced enthusiastically.

Bucky patted the man’s giant forearm as he tried to extract himself. “Same here, Thor.”

Clint clapped his hands together. “Alright. We’re all aware that Tony Stark recently opened up an art gallery downtown and put Pepper Potts in charge.”

Nat nodded. “And?”

Clint made a face at her. “I’m getting there. Since then, there have been a couple incidents with vandalism, nothing crazy. Initially it seemed to bring attention to the gallery. But, it happened again, and now Pepper’s worried the vandalism might scare away potential patrons.”

Bucky frowned. “You haven’t reported the vandalism until now?”

Clint rolled his eyes and tossed over a folder. Bucky flipped open the folder and saw a number of photographs. He felt his eyebrows go up in surprise. The pictures showed graffiti on the opposing walls of the Stark Gallery, but Bucky wasn’t even sure he could call it graffiti. The artwork was incredibly well done. He couldn’t look away.

There was a field of poppies, just like the Wizard of Oz, with music notes swooping in the sky above Dorothy and her companions. Another picture showed a giant snowflake composed of smaller crystallized shapes. The last photo showed an American flag with a variety of faces making up the composite stars and stripes. He stared at the pictures in awe before Nat swiped the folder from him to take a look.

“These are impressive,” she said, somewhat surprised.

“Aren’t they mesmerizing?” Thor raved, taking the file away from her to look through the pictures himself.

Nat watched him in amusement as Bruce ran a hand down his face and pointed out. “They are very impressive, however it’s still breaking the law.” Then he reached over to a tray and pulled out several bottles of a metallic liquid. “Keep a bottle of this around, it’s a solvent I created to wipe away the paint more easily,” Bruce explained.

Bucky turned over the bottle. “So, are you only asking us to document the graffiti?”

Clint shrugged. “For now. The incidents are still happening, so we figured we needed to inform law enforcement because we haven’t caught the artist. Plus if we didn’t, Nat would yell at me. She’s mean when she yells.”

Nat looked unimpressed. “We’ll file the report, but I’m not going back to Fury with this until we’ve had a chance to look around the gallery and interview the staff.”

Bruce nodded his agreement.

Thor was still looking at the photographs joyously.

Clint crossed his arms as he muttered, “Fine.”

Bucky attempted to look imposing when Nat casted him a triumphant smile while he guiltily ate another packet of fruit snacks.  
“Let’s go then,” Clint said, hopping off the table.

•

Bucky seemed to be the only one aware of the sight they made approaching the Stark Gallery. Two N.Y.P.D. officers in full uniform and a stocky, Head of Security in all black. He realized, more accurately, he was the only one who seemed to care.

Clint was definitely playing it up with a glower and a swaggering walk that he must have been convinced looked cool. Nat wasn’t actively trying to look like a badass, that was just her natural state of being.

Bucky sighed, and tried the front door. It was about an hour before the gallery opened to the public, but the door swung inwards, and they went inside. A woman in a sleek, houndstooth dress looked up from where she was tapping away at a computer. She wore her dark hair pinned up, and flashed a red-lipped smile in their direction. “Welcome to Stark Gallery. It’s lovely to see you again, Mr. Barton. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting your friends.”

Bucky nodded to her in greeting. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Officer James Barnes.”

Nat stepped up beside him. “I’m his partner, Officer Natasha Romanoff.”

The woman at the desk got to her feet. “It’s nice to meet you, Officers. I’m Peggy Carter, how can I help you today?”

Barton stepped up and rested his forearms on the desk. “We reported the graffiti incidents. They’d like to walk around and talk to everyone before the gallery opens.”

Peggy sighed. “I thought you were handling things.”

Clint glowered at her. “We are! I know nobody wanted to report it, but this is the third incident. If things escalated and we didn’t have it reported, my firm would be responsible.”

Peggy nodded. “Yes, of course, I understand. What do you need from me?”

Barton popped one of the complimentary mints into his mouth. “Would you mind letting everyone know the fuzz needs to chat? We’ll let them wander the place while we round up the troops.”

Peggy rolled her eyes before looking over at Nat to ask, “Is that what I should I be doing?”

Nat smirked. “Oh, I like this one. And yes, that would be helpful.”

Bucky shook his head as Barton started a shoving match with Nat, which he soundly lost after the fourth shove sent him tripping into a railing.

Bucky began sweeping the gallery, taking note of the street view from the building’s windows. There was a security system in place, linking the windows and doors to a tripping mechanism, likely set after hours. It wasn’t useful when the graffiti was occurring outside the gallery. He stepped up to the window and peered outside to see what the outside camera situation was like.

There were several cameras positioned, but Bucky could see even from inside the gallery that the art had been painted in the blind spots. The artist was aware of the cameras and had clearly cased security.

Nat walked up beside him. “Clint said since the first incident, he’s had two guys walking perimeter after closings. They circle the building on the hour mark.”

Bucky pointed to the cameras. “Whoever is doing this knows how to work between the cameras, and they know the rotations Clint’s running. They have to be hanging around the gallery regularly or they’re on the inside.”

Nat nodded at his assessment. “That’s what I was thinking too.”

They walked the rest of the gallery, scanning over the layout and the existing security measures. When they made it back to the front desk, there was a cluster of people standing around.

A blonde wearing a pencil skirt and a French twist watched their approach anxiously. She stepped forward to shake both of their hands. “Thank you for coming down, Officers. I’m Pepper Potts.”

Nat led her to the side. “It’s no problem at all, Ms. Potts. My name is Officer Natasha Romanoff and this is my partner, Officer James Barnes.”

Ms. Potts nodded nervously. “Please call me Pepper. The art on the buildings has been gorgeous and I didn’t want to have to do anything about it. It’s just that I’ve noticed a spike in other graffiti nearby and I don’t want things getting worse, or for new crimes to be committed. I’ve got enough to worry about inside without trying to reassure patrons about what’s happening outside.”

Nat placed a gentle hand on Pepper’s arm. “We’re hoping to get to the bottom of this. Why don’t you come over here and tell me what you’ve seen? Officer Barnes will go speak with another one of your employees until we get through everyone.”

Pepper fluttered her hands. “That sounds reasonable.”

Nat jerked her head towards the employees and Bucky gave her a sloppy salute as he headed over. He cleared his throat to get the chattering group’s attention. There were roughly ten employees standing together and they all fell silent, looking towards Bucky.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Hello everyone. I’m Officer James Barnes. I’m here to talk to you about the vandalism incidents that have occurred across the street. Anything you have seen, heard, or know about the situation is something we are interested in, if you wouldn’t mind sharing it. Any questions?”

The first question made him want to facepalm.

“Are you single?” a young looking, dark haired girl asked in a bored tone.

Bucky faltered for a moment before he glared at Clint when his friend started cackling in the back of the group. “That’s not relevant to the investigation,” he pointed out, trying to remain in control of the situation.

The girl looked him up and down. “You sure?”

Bucky casted her an unimpressed stare. Sure, she was cute, but he was not about to deal with this shit while he was on duty. “Positive. Any other questions?”

The girl spoke up again. “Are we under arrest?”

Bucky frowned. “No, no one is under arrest. We’re just here to gather more information. You don’t have to speak with us if you don’t want to.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “But we’d seem guilty if we didn’t.”

Peggy smacked the other girl upside the head. The girl rubbed at the spot petulantly, “Ow!”

Rolling her eyes, Peggy shoved the younger girl forward. “Stop being a pain in the ass, Darcy. Now you get to go first.”

  
•

Bucky excused himself to meet up with Nat after she finished speaking with Ms. Potts to see if he needed to change the direction of his questions. So far he had interviewed Darcy Lewis, James Rhodes, Peggy Carter, Jane Foster, and Jarvis with no last name. Mostly, the consensus was that everyone had spotted the artwork when it appeared on the building and heard the gossip.

Although Darcy seemed convinced it was Banksy.

“How’s it going?” Nat asked, flipping through her notepad and reviewing Ms. Potts’ statement.

Bucky shrugged. “Everyone’s seen the artwork once it’s there and there are rumors going around, but nothing substantial.”

She flicked her eyes back up to the remaining few employees. “Alright, let’s finish up here. Then we can review the statements at the station where I can chug five cups of coffee without civilians judging me.”

Bucky snorted and glanced over to the remaining two men, who were laughing, engaged in conversation. His eyes caught on the blonde, taking in the man’s jaw line and the broad stretch of his shoulders.

Nat smirked and pinched his side. “I was wondering if you were avoiding interviewing him on purpose, but it turns out you didn’t notice until now.”

He swatted her hand away grumpily. “We’re on the job, Nat. I’m a professional.”

She raised her eyebrows at him and started walking towards the two remaining employees. “You’re right, Buck. You’re a professional hottie.”

She was too far away for him to retaliate, and she had definitely planned that. Bucky glared after her where she had stepped aside to interview the good-looking black man. She winked back.

Bucky approached the final employee, where he was now talking to Clint.

“Running is a form of torture, not exercise,” Barton argued.

The large blonde had an expression on his face like this was a conversation they regularly engaged in. “It’s a good way to clear your head,” the man pointed out.

Bucky was somewhat horrified to notice that the man’s face looked just as good as the rest of him. Which was perfect. Greek god levels of perfection. Who signed off on allowing this kind of person to exist?

Barton frowned. “Target practice clears my head. The only time I’m running anywhere is if I’m being chased.”

“Or if there’s a special on chicken alfredo at Luigi’s,” Bucky added.

Clint clapped his hands together excitedly. “Oh shit, you got that right. Man, we’ve got to go there tonight.”

Bucky shook his head and pointed out. “We’ll see. You’ve got to convince Nat. She refused to go back if you smuggled out those breadsticks last time, and you did it anyway.”

The other blonde man bit his lip in an effort to keep his smile at bay. “That doesn’t surprise me at all,” he admitted, and Barton shrugged.

Bucky jerked his thumb to the side so Clint would leave. Barton plucked another mint from the bowl and looked pointedly between the blonde and Bucky before sauntering away.

“Thank you for being patient with us today,” Bucky said, smoothing out his notebook as a method of avoiding eye contact for as long as he could.

Looking at this guy was like looking into the sun. If the sun was a blonde, beautiful, broad-shouldered man.

“You’re welcome?” the man said, amusement coloring his tone.

Bucky finally looked up, and the man’s blue eyes widened slightly when he saw he had Bucky’s full attention. “Your name?” Bucky asked after a moment’s pause.

“Steve Rogers,” the blonde said, seeming grateful for a question to answer.

Bucky nodded and scribbled his name down next to his physical description. Great, now he had a name to attach to all of that. “Job?”

“I work on the showcase side of the gallery giving tours,” Steve informed him.

Bucky nodded, adding that to the top of the page, before asking the next question. “What can you tell me about the artwork on the buildings across the gallery?”

Rogers shrugged. “Paintings show up and then a few days later they get cleaned up.”

Bucky resisted the urge to write ‘zip, nada, zilch’ and transcribed the man’s words. “Have you noticed anyone spending an unusual amount of time outside the gallery?”

Steve shook his head.

Bucky continued on. “Anyone spending an unusual amount of time talking about the paintings?”

Steve shook his head again. Bucky drew a little ‘x’ next to the question and asked another. “Anyone you’ve noticed spending an unusual amount of time in front of any of the paintings with a similar style as these pieces?”

This made Rogers blink at him in surprise. “You just called the graffiti ‘pieces’, like they’re real art.”

Bucky coughed, caught out. He did think the building paintings were real art. They looked a hell of a lot more like real art than half those abstracts, streaks of paint on par with a two-year old wielding a paintbrush. “I—uh. Have you noticed anyone…doing that?” he plowed through the question.

Steve smiled at him cheerfully. “No, I haven’t.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay, well, thank you for your time.”

Rogers nodded back. “That’s it?”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Unless there’s something else you wanted to tell me?”

Steve turned red. “No, that’s all I’ve got.” Bucky tried not to find the fact that the blush spread to the tips of Steve’s ears appealing, but he failed.

Damn it. He had a crush on the art guy.

“Alright, give me a call if anything else comes up,” Bucky said as he passed Steve one of his cards.

“ _Anything_?” Clint asked under his breath as he walked by.

Bucky elbowed the man, thankful that Steve was too busy studying his card to notice. Barton wheezed after the prod, and Nat approached with the other employee Bucky didn’t get a chance to interview.

“I’d ask what you did, but I know you deserved that,” the dark-skinned man said, eying Barton.

“Shut up,” Clint mumbled and rubbed at the sore spot.

The guy stuck a hand out to introduce himself to Bucky. “Hey man, I’m Sam Wilson.”

Bucky shook his hand, trying to place why that name sounded so familiar. “Wait. As in Sam, the aviator friend who pushed Clint out of a helicopter and made him scream, Sam?”

Sam grinned widely. “Hell yeah, I will gladly own up to that.” Nat snickered.

“I hate you all,” Clint whined. Steve began to protest and Clint amended, “Except Steve, he hasn’t done anything terrible to me.”

“Well, I did tell Peggy about that time you kept rerouting the delivery location of the mints to your house,” Steve said mildly.

Clint threw his hands up and huffed off.

“Nice,” Sam complimented and held up a palm that Steve slapped on cue.

Then he crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels looking to Bucky. “Wait, I missed your name earlier.”

“Officer James Barnes,” Steve blurted out.

Nat raised a hand to stifle her laugh and Bucky felt his face go hot. He forced himself to act casually. He was a grown man. Another grown man said his name. There was no reason that should affect him.

“Everyone calls me Bucky,” he finally said when he regained some of his composure.

Sam looked delighted by this update. “Bucky? As in the Bucky who went out to dinner with a ninety-seven year old woman and rescued her kitten after you pulled her over?”

Bucky grimaced while Nat began to full out guffaw at his expense. He tried to defend himself. “She had a handkerchief tied around her hair and she was in her housecoat and slippers! There was no way to say no.”

Steve was definitely pretending to cough while laughing at him.

Bucky’s phone began to ring and he answered quickly when he saw it was Fury. “Barnes here.”

Fury sounded distracted as he spoke. “When you and Romanoff are done sucking up to our coffee benefactor’s staff, get your asses down to Lenox Avenue. Need you to process an attempted homicide. Hill and Coulson are already down there.”

“Copy that, sir,” he said and Fury grunted before hanging up without a signoff. Bucky tilted his head to the door when Nat glanced his way. “We need to get going.”

She nodded, but then Sam squinted at him. “I’ve also heard there’s a running tally on how many times you get hit on while on duty.” He turned to Nat, “Did you catch earlier when Darcy asked if he was single?”

Nat looked pleased to be informed of this development. “I missed that one. Now the tally for the month is up to what, 52?”

Bucky groaned. “Only two more weeks left in August.”

“52?” Sam repeated incredulously. “For _this_ month?”

Nat patted Bucky on the head absently. “Have you seen his face?”

Bucky looked skyward and took a deep breath to resist the urge to slink away from Nat. That never ended well.

He glanced towards where Steve was watching the scene with his arms crossed, a calculating expression on his face. The blonde pointed towards Bucky’s phone and he scrambled for the save.

“Well, we’ve got a scene to process, nice meeting you,” Bucky said, speed walking to the door and fleeing Stark Gallery.

•

Bucky jerked awake when his cell phone blared at 3:00 AM. “This is Barnes?” he slurred in confusion, propelling himself up into a sitting position.

“You got it, ace,” Nat teased as he rubbed at his eyes groggily.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked through a yawn.

“We got ourselves another painting outside the Stark Gallery,” she explained through a series of shuffling noises.

Bucky threw himself backwards onto his bed. There hadn’t been any vandalism in the month since they had done an initial interview and walk through. He made a string of unintelligible noises into the phone.

Nat snorted. “I know. I’ll come by and pick you up in the car. We’ll get coffee from that place on Van Buren afterwards and make Clint pay since this is his fault.”

Bucky grunted in agreement and then hung up, struggling to dress himself in the dark. He went downstairs and sat on the front steps of the building, waiting until Nat pulled up in the squad car. Bucky tugged the door open and sat down heavily. “This is my hell.”

Nat hummed in sympathy and guided the car to the Stark Gallery. She climbed out and tossed a flashlight to Bucky, clicking her own on as they walked. They directed the lights towards where Clint was standing, staring up at a new piece of artwork on the northwest-facing wall.

Bucky felt his jaw drop open when he saw the mural. Mural was really the only way he could describe the swirling art that took up the entire side of the exposed brick. The image showed a gilded ballroom with rich colors, filling in full ball gowns and ridiculously detailed men’s formal military uniforms. It might have been the most amazing thing Bucky had ever seen in his life.

“Does anyone else feel like they’re in that scene where Anastasia’s dancing in imperial Russia with her ghost Dad?” Clint asked after five minutes of everyone staring at the artwork.

Nat sighed. “If you ask me one more time if I’m the long lost Princess, I will shoot you.”

Clint held up his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying. Romanoff, Romanov? Red-haired, Russian orphan? Literally the plot of the movie.”

“Does that make you Bartok?” Bucky asked absently, still staring in wonder at the mural.

His head snapped to the side when the flash of a camera went off. Nat was backing up, taking pictures of the painting and the surrounding area. He finally got his head in the game and ran a perimeter check. The only unusual indication of the new building front was a spout that looked like it had been used recently, where a splash of faded paint stained the sidewalk. Bucky dropped an evidence marker near the faucet and took a picture of the area.

After half an hour they finished processing the scene and headed over to coffee. Bucky went in for their drinks to escape the argument that had resulted from Clint trying to convince Nat to turn on the siren, citing ‘caramel mocha’ as an emergency.

He passed out their order in the car, handing Clint his mocha through the sliding window into the backseat. They always made Clint sit in the back of the cop car. It was hilarious.

Bucky rearranged the two remaining coffees he ordered after Clint called while he was in line.

When Nat pulled up to Stark Gallery for the second time that morning, it was to see Pepper standing in front of the mural beside a man wearing red tinted sunglasses and some truly unusual facial hair. Bucky held up the tray and let Pepper determine which coffee was hers.

Clint clapped the man next to Pepper on the shoulder. “Tony! When did you become diurnal again?”

The man who Bucky realized had to be Tony Stark was casting Clint an impressed once over. “Diurnal? Barton, I didn’t realize you muscle-bound, security types knew SAT vocab words.”

Clint flipped Tony off. Pepper sighed before taking a sip of her drink and gesturing to the gallery. “And I didn’t realize you tech geniuses knew anything about art,” she said off-hand.

Stark flashed her an ingratiating smile and smacked a kiss on her cheek. “That’s why I’ve got you.” Pepper rolled her eyes, but smiled back all the same.

“Smooth,” Nat added dryly.

Stark’s gaze swung over to assess Nat and Bucky. “Huh, you two really do look like strippers.”

Bucky closed his eyes and silently counted, getting to five before he heard Nat ask in a measured tone that signified imminent bodily harm. “Excuse me?”

Tony’s eyes widened and he took a subtle step behind Pepper. “No offense, N.Y.P.D. Blues. After your inquisition at the gallery last month everyone was talking about you two, which makes perfect sense now that I’ve seen you.”

“Darcy said we looked like strippers, didn’t she?” Bucky asked in resignation.

Stark looked at him with pleasant surprise. “Not bad, Lethal Weapon.”

Nat pursed her lips. “Now that we’ve firmly established that we are in fact officers of the law, can we talk about the reason we’re all here?”

Stark shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Nat took a deep breath through her nose and gestured to the gallery. “We’ll need to speak to your employees again.”

Pepper nodded quickly trying to smooth over Tony’s missteps. “Of course, is there anything else?”

“Catch the vandal!” Clint shouted enthusiastically.

“Thank you for your input,” Bucky said in a monotone before shoving Clint towards the gallery entrance.

Pepper unlocked the door and ushered everyone inside. “The gallery isn’t open to the public until the afternoon, but everyone is already here getting ready for the exhibition on Friday.”

Clint stuck two fingers against his lips and whistled, the sound loud and piercing in the morning quiet.

Sam stuck his head around the corner, before leaning back and shouting over his shoulder. “Told y’all it was Barton. I’d recognize that level of obnoxiousness anywhere.”

Smirking, Nat waved to Sam. “Can you tell the others to come up here? There’s been another incident.”

He nodded dutifully and disappeared from sight. Slowly the Stark Gallery employees filtered into the main entryway.

Nat clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Hello everyone. I’m Officer Natasha Romanoff and you’ve all met my partner, Officer James Barnes. I’m sure you are aware why we are here today. I’d like you all to try and think of anything that might be useful in our investigation. This means anything unusual, or anything related to the graffiti, or gallery security. We’ll speak with you one by one. Thank you for your patience.”

Bucky flipped his notebook open and steeled himself for another round of a whole lot of nothing at all. He started with several of the employees who had recently been out of town to clear their stories. He might have also been hoping Nat would be stuck with questioning Darcy, but he had no such luck.

“I’m telling you, it’s Banksy,” Darcy repeated for the fifth time, twirling a dark curl around her finger.

“Have you ever actually seen any of Banksy’s work?” Bucky finally asked in exasperation.

“Duh, it’s Banksy,” Darcy said rolling her eyes.

“The graffiti outside the gallery looks nothing like Banksy. Banksy is highly satirical and his stenciling technique isn’t at all impressionistic,” Bucky explained, trying to resist the urge to rub at the bridge of his nose.

Darcy took a step closer, resting a hand on Bucky’s chest. “Whoa there, Cutie Cop knows his art.”

He peeled her hand off with a stern look. “That will be all, Ms. Lewis.”

Bucky flipped to a fresh page of his notebook and called out, “Next!”

He fumbled his pen when he looked up and saw Rogers in work boots, dark jeans, and a white t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. “Uh, that doesn’t seem like work attire,” Bucky grumbled mostly to himself. He had to complain to someone.

Steve grinned and rubbed self-consciously at the back of his neck, the shirt pulling across his chest. “No tours today, I’m helping rearrange the gallery for the exhibition,” he said, gesturing to himself in explanation.

Bucky had to force himself to look away and clear his throat. “So, what time did you arrive at the gallery this morning?”

“Eight o’clock,” Steve answered after a moment’s pause and his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Did you notice anything in the alleyway when you walked in?” Bucky asked next.

“Besides the huge painting on the wall?” Steve asked, his mouth pulling up in the corner.

“Besides that,” Bucky agreed, scribbling at the pad uselessly.

“Everyone was stopping to look at it. Then we all went inside and started work,” Steve continued with a shrug.

Bucky nodded and pretended to write that down as well. “What you said before,” Steve started and then stopped, looking embarrassed.

Looking up, Bucky waited for him to continue. “About what?”

“About the graffiti being impressionistic,” Steve said, staring fixedly at a point behind Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes flickered over Steve’s face. “Was that not the right description?”

Steve’s gaze snapped back to him. “No, it was right. It is impressionistic. I didn’t know you did art.”

“I can do anything you want,” Bucky said off-hand before realizing Steve’s face was turning incredibly red. That came out way more inappropriate than he meant it to, although it was still true.

He cleared his throat and tried to clarify what he meant when Nat appeared beside him, eying Steve speculatively. “You got another tally for the list?”

Rogers shook his head, “No!”

Bucky looked away quickly. Well, that was a blow to the ego.

Steve fidgeted self-consciously. “No, not that I—it just wouldn’t be appropriate. You’re on duty.”

Bucky licked his lips. “Maybe I’ll see you around, when I’m off duty.”

Steve’s mouth fell open. Sam snorted at his friend and patted him on the back, “Atta boy.”

Darcy walked by with a stink-eye. “Figures. Steve gets all the pretty ones.”

“I’m accepting that as a compliment,” Peggy said, preening beside her.

Darcy inclined her head. “As you should, you foxy, British lady.”

Nat looked towards Peggy with a questioning head tilt and the brunette explained, “Steve and I were an item a while back, but he’s single now. Very single.”

“Thanks, Peg,” Steve said deprecatingly.

Nat raised her eyebrows and looked to Bucky. “Isn’t that interesting?”

“Mmmmhmmm, yeah, well we’ve got to go now. Thank you for your time!” Bucky said hurriedly, ushering Natasha away before she could do anything embarrassing.

Outside he took a deep breath and tried not to look flustered, but he knew he was failing pretty spectacularly based on Nat’s amused expression. “So suave,” she teased, as they climbed back into the cruiser.

“Shut up,” Bucky grumbled.

•

A week later found Bucky ducking his head down, while Clint launched himself over Bucky’s shoulders. He laughed when Clint stumbled through his landing. The stocky blonde threw his arms up in celebration and bowed. Then he dipped his own chin forward while Bucky took a running start and leapt over him.

Bucky stuck the landing and quirked an eyebrow. “I can give that one to you, I have a lot less distance to clear.”

Clint squawked. “Fuck you! You’re only saying that because that’ll be a tie. I don’t need your pity, Officer Bucky Butthead.”

“Boys,” Nat said disapprovingly, where she was perched on a fire escape, binoculars held up to her face.

They were stationed kitty corner to the gallery, where they had been running surveillance sporadically and off-schedule from Clint’s normal security rounds. The sun was going down and Bucky and Clint’s focus had devolved into leapfrog half an hour earlier.

Clint tapped Bucky on the head. “Ready position, I’m earning my victory.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but squared off while Clint jumped. A loud crash resulted and Bucky whipped his head up to see Clint had half toppled into the dumpster. “Are you okay?” he called in alarm, running forward.

Nat sighed loudly in exasperation. Bucky tried not to laugh as he hauled Clint out, avoiding getting hit in the face. “Stop kicking your legs.”

Clint groused, but his legs went still while Bucky tugged him backwards. Touching at a mashed brown banana on his forehead, Clint’s lip curled up in disgust.

“Hey,” Nat said sharply, her voice hushed. “I think you idiots got the chicken to fly the coop, go catch it.”

They both turned immediately to where Nat was pointing. Bucky took off running towards the building on the left of the gallery and he heard frantic footfalls echoing ahead. Clint fell in beside him and nodded, darting to the other side of the building.

Skidding around the corner, Bucky caught sight of a large man wearing a hooded sweatshirt pulled up, dark sweats, and tennis shoes. The guy had a bag slung across his back clanging with what Bucky recognized as the sound of spray paint cans.

He sped up and caught sight of Clint coming around the other side.

“Stop, police!” Bucky shouted. The guy ignored him, still hauling some serious ass.

“Stop! Not police, but I can still legally fuck your shit up to an extent!” Clint shouted, gaining on the man. Before either of them could react, the graffiti artist leapt towards a brick building, fingers hooked into the mortar joints as he climbed up the wall.

“Holy parkour, Spiderman!” Clint yelped, coming to a stop and gaping at the sight.

“You’re mixing your comic references,” Bucky corrected absently, staring as the guy made it to the roof and vanished from sight.

“Should I try and follow him?” Clint asked.

Bucky shook his head no and turned back towards the alley the man had come from. The paint on the wall was still wet with the new mural. “Holy shit,” Clint breathed beside him.

Nat came up behind them and whistled. The new painting depicted a police badge, bright and glimmering with little galaxies contained at the points.

“Are we being mocked?” Clint asked affronted.

Stepping closer Nat peered at the image, poking a finger against the wall and looking at her newly gold fingertip. Bucky stared at the badge where bright blue and red paint seemed to glow from behind the image. “I don’t think that’s it at all,” Bucky said slowly.

Nat looked at him curiously so he kept talking. “If it was a bad thing the colors wouldn’t be as bright. The badge looks like it’s in better than good shape, it’s in its best shape. There’s no critique or satirical message, this looks like an acknowledgement.”

Narrowing in on the red and blue Nat turned back to him. The colors weren’t just patriotic. She pointed to her hair. Then pointed two fingers to her eyes, flipping them towards Bucky’s face. “Red and blue?”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “Red and blue.”

“Hold on, you guys got some sort of commemorative vandalism and I didn’t? Where’s my graffiti love confession?” Clint complained.

Nat gestured to the badge. “Well. It’s gold, like your hair?”

Clint frowned and crossed his arms. Bucky patted him in consolation. “No, it’s gold like your heart.”

“Oh my God,” Nat groaned, shaking her head and backing up to photograph the new graffiti.

Clint grinned, pleased, and slung an arm around Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky began writing the report, describing the image. A few moments later Clint started jogging back to the gallery. Before he rounded the corner he yelled, “Gotta catch Thor before his circuit. I’m going to ask for a report of which employees are in the gallery.”

Nat gave him an okay symbol and looked back at the picture. “We already suspected it was an inside job.”

“Damn, we’re good. Maybe we should be cops,” Bucky said, smirking.

Nat rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. “We can see if any of the employees are actually aspiring artists themselves and go from there.”  
Bucky nodded and they waited for Bruce to arrive with more cleaning solution since they were all out. They could get this down before it dried and save time later.

Clint showed up once they had wiped away half of the graffiti. “I knew I should have stayed back there eating mints for another ten minutes,” he sighed, picking up a sponge and getting in line to scrub.

Bruce gave him a disparaging look. Nat and Bucky ignored him.

Clint rubbed at his nose absently. “Unfortunately all employees are accounted for at the gallery. I can review tapes to see if anyone arrived recently, but we already know our _artiste_ is slipping through the security feeds. Chances are that’ll be a bust.”

“Don’t bother,” Nat said, wiping at a swatch of paint. “We’re getting closer and we’ve got a lead.”

Clint nodded and they got back to work, the image wiping away faster with the wet paint.

Once the wall was clean, Bucky and Nat headed back to the station. Nat pulled up a database to search for connections to art education or involvement, while Bucky stared at an overhead map to determine what the commonalities were between the locations of the graffiti.

So far he had nothing besides ‘near the gallery’ and ‘outside of security camera ranges’.

Nat made a contemplative sound. “We’ve got a couple hits here. Which admittedly, it’s unsurprising that people working at an art gallery have connections to art. Pepper Potts has a masters in Art Administration and she’s a renown buyer and collector, Darcy Lewis is currently enrolled in a Fine Arts program, Jarvis is an art critic, and Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers take art classes together at some studio in Brooklyn.”

Bucky wrote down the names Nat mentioned. “The artist was definitely a man, so it couldn’t be Darcy unless she has someone else doing the work for her.”

“You didn’t even mention Pepper,” Nat pointed out, amused.

Bucky raised a judgmental eyebrow. “We both know it’s not Ms. Potts.”

Nat tapped a pen against her desk thoughtfully. “So it’s not Pepper and it’s not Darcy, unless she has outside help, which is unlikely due to the amount of inside information.”

Bucky crossed their names off the list. “Which leaves Jarvis, Sam, and Steve.” He stared at Steve’s name, squinting at it and really hoping it wasn’t Steve.

Lock up and vandalism charges would totally put a damper on his ability to see what Steve looked like naked.

“Neither you or Clint caught a glimpse of any identifying features?” Nat asked automatically. She already knew the answer was no or they would have said something.

Bucky shook his head. “Nope, just a dark hooded sweatshirt, dark sweatpants, sneakers, and the ability to scale a brick wall.”

Nat perked up. “Good point. I think I saw—, ” she trailed off. Bucky looked back at the map until she decided to finish her thought. “Here it is. Jarvis is on disability. He wouldn’t be able to scale the wall.”

Bucky crossed his name off the list and stared down at Sam and Steve written accusingly on his notepad. “So it’s either Clint’s friend or the tour guide.”

Nat snorted, “Aka, it’s either the guy you also want to be friends with or the guy you want to bang.”

“I want to befriend them both, honorably,” Bucky huffed in embarrassment.

“Yeah. Uh-huh. You and Steve will be _real_ friendly,” Nat leered.

“Romanoff, do I have to remind you again about sexual innuendos in the station?” Fury said tiredly as he passed by.

“I’ll remember to make them where you can’t hear them, sir,” she said dutifully.

Fury nodded. “That’s all I ask.”

Bucky sighed and went to go get a coffee.

•

Bucky stood on top of Stark Gallery, staring up at the sky. He was aware that looking up wouldn’t help much with the case, but stakeouts were boring and he was by himself. He couldn’t leapfrog on his own, at least not successfully.

They had all decided the relative success of their last unplanned monitoring meant further shifts were necessary. Bucky lost the furious and frankly vicious rounds of rock-paper-scissors, which was why he was on the night shift. Eventually he sat down on the ledge of the building, leaning back on his palms and watching New York City, loud and bright.

He almost didn’t notice the light bobbing towards the southeast of the gallery because of a passing helicopter, but then it caught his eye again. A flashlight, pointed towards the ground to prevent casting unnecessary beams along the alleyways, but still a light.

Bucky carefully moved towards the ladder, climbing down silently and reorienting himself on the ground. He walked towards the light source and stopped at the entry to the alley, peering around the corner.

There was a man wearing a nearly identical outfit to the other day. Dark hooded sweatshirt and dark pants with tennis shoes. Bucky pulled back and walked around the building to look from the other side, to try and get a better angle. He glanced around the other corner, but the man’s face was cast in shadows as he kneeled down to open his bag.

The man pulled back the zipper on the duffle and Bucky moved quickly.

He lowered his shoulder to drive into the man’s stomach as he tackled him to the ground. Holy hell, this guy was solid. Bucky pinned him down, reaching up to tug down the scarf tied around the man’s face. No wonder they didn’t get any identifying facial features.

Before the scarf was removed Bucky realized he didn’t even need to see his face. Not after he saw the man’s bright blue eyes. He already knew who it was.

Steve smiled at him wryly from the ground. “Hello, Bucky,” he said.

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “Hello, Steve.”

“Not quite what you had in mind about seeing me off duty?” Steve asked after a moment when neither of them moved, blinking at each other uncertainly.

“Not quite,” Bucky agreed. “Although I would be lying if I said I didn’t hope it involved being on top of you at some point. So, we got that part right,” he added.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “This part is nice.”

Bucky shifted, climbing off of Steve and offering him a hand up. Once they were both standing and brushing who knows what off of their clothing,

Bucky sighed again. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, gesturing to the bag of spray paint.

“I love art,” Steve said simply. “I like creating something for people to experience with me.”

Bucky gestured wildly to the bag and then the building. “You can’t love art on a canvas?”

Steve looked at him contemplatively, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “I love art on canvases too. But this is art for people, for everyone. Not just art for a gallery, or for people who understand art.”

“Art we keep cleaning up,” Bucky pointed out.

Steve shrugged. “And yet people know about it.”

Bucky looked at Steve and looked back at the bag. “They call it art,” Steve insisted. “Like you did. You called it art.”

Running a hand down his face, Bucky shook his head helplessly. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “What am I supposed to do here, Steve? Vandalism is illegal, no matter how noble.”

“I know. You have to arrest me,” Steve said earnestly. Wow, he had actually meant that too. What even was this guy? Bucky just stared at him.

Steve held his hands out in front of himself. Bucky still didn’t move. Steve raised his arms higher, wrists pressed together. “You going to cuff me, Officer?” he asked innocently.

Bucky felt his face go hot. Jesus Christ. This was not a situation to be thinking with his dick. Steve broke the law. He couldn’t just turn the other way because he had a pretty face, and a pretty torso, and pretty biceps, and pretty shoulders, and pretty thighs and shit. He was getting distracted.

It wasn’t like Steve was trying to cause damage though, and the paint had washed away. He was trying to share art. He was like the Mother Theresa of art vandals.

Bucky glanced back down at the bag. He supposed technically he didn’t know for sure what was in there. He hadn’t actually seen Steve spray paint the wall.

“I don’t know what’s in there,” Bucky said slowly, pointing to the bag. “No idea.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow at him and lowered his arms. “No?”

Bucky shook his head. “Nope. Not at all.”

Steve’s responding smile was bright and Bucky had to look away. This solved the problem right now, but not entirely. He couldn’t keep turning a blind eye. “If I ask you to stop, will you?” Bucky asked tentatively.

The smile twisted slightly as Steve considered the question. “Yeah, I’ll stop,” Steve said softly.

Bucky made a surprised sound. “You will?”

Steve nodded. “I’ll try that canvas thing you suggested.”

Bucky blinked at him. “That, yeah, that would be good. Your art is incredible. You have a really unique style. People would like to look at it, to keep it,” he rambled.

“Thanks, Bucky.” Steve grinned at him and Bucky shifted, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. “You suggested something else before too,” Steve said mildly.

Bucky frowned. “Uh, what?”

Steve nodded. “Something about being on top of me?”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he swallowed thickly. “Oh.”

Steve leaned down to scoop up the bag and jerked his head down the alley. “You off duty?”

They started walking down the alleyway together. “I suppose I am now,” he conceded since he had, in all technicality, prevented any further incidents and stopped the perp.

“Good,” Steve said firmly. “Because I heard you the other day, talking about my piece and the use of color. I want you to do it again, preferably naked.”

Bucky choked on air. “Is that okay?” Steve asked, glancing back where Bucky had fallen behind.

“Yeah. I told you before, I can do anything you want,” Bucky said, smirking, finally getting his brain online again.

Steve glanced at his mouth flustered and nodded. Bucky licked his lips experimentally and Steve’s eyes darted away. He stepped forward, his fingers resting against Steve’s ridiculous jawline as he kissed him. His other hand was spread against Steve’s chest, fingers flexing against the hard plane of muscle. This man was not even real.

Steve made a soft sound, before sliding his mouth open and drawing Bucky closer. They drew back panting, Steve’s eyes crinkled in the corners, his mouth reddened from the kiss. Bucky grinned smugly.

Yeah, he was definitely okay with this.

•

Bucky looked up when Nat slapped something down in front of him. He looked from the papers trapped under her palm to her alarmingly disturbing grin. “What?” he asked warily.

“What?” Nat parroted back mockingly. “What!” she said again, before moving her hand and stepping back, waiting for his reaction.

Bucky looked down and saw grainy camera images of himself and Steve, connected at the mouth. He was grateful they had managed to get indoors before clothing came off, because Nat would have had a field day with that.

When he looked up and saw her manic glee he amended that, she would have had an even bigger field day with that.

“Care to explain why this security footage from months ago is showing you and your boyfriend sucking face near the gallery when you were supposed to be on a stakeout?” she asked, eyes alight.

“Um,” Bucky answered eloquently. He was really nailing this.

“Um?” Natasha queried.

“We don’t have to worry about any more vandalism near the Stark Gallery?” Bucky said weakly.

“Because you arrested the perp? Or because the perp is too busy painting nudes of you draped over a couch on an unsinkable ship to vandalize any more buildings?” Natasha asked sweetly.

“I am not Rose,” Bucky said outraged.

Barton appeared over Nat’s shoulder. “Eh, it’s up for debate who’s got the better boobs between you and Kate Winslet. Want to take off your shirt for a comparison?” Barton pulled out his phone. “Okay, Google.”

Fury paused when he saw Barton in the station. Then he heard him say, “Kate Winslet Titanic boobs.”

Fury took a deep, measured breath before continuing to walk away. Before he slammed the door of his office closed he snapped, “Romanoff!”

Nat turned towards Clint. “No sexual innuendos in the station where Fury can hear them.”

“That is _all I ask_!” Fury’s muffled voice called through the door.

Clint nodded in understanding then frowned at his phone. “No, Google. Not cake, wind, and Titanic food. What the hell? Kate. Winslet. Titanic. _Boobs_ ,” he enunciated clearly.

“Godammit, Barton!” Fury shouted from his office.

“Sorry, sir. I blame Officer Barnes. He won’t take off his shirt,” Barton called back.

It was quiet before they heard the unmistakable thump of Fury planting his head against his desk. Repeatedly.

Clint shrugged and gave up on his Google search, sliding his phone back in his pocket. “Whatever. You two coming to the exhibition tonight?”

Nat rolled her eyes. “We just went shopping for it yesterday. Obviously I’m going.”

Bucky nodded and pointed to the suit hanging in a garment bag on the coat rack. Clint rocked back on his heels. “It’s so cool that all the graffiti stuff was a warm up for Steve to display his work.”

Bucky froze where he was stapling a report. “What?” he asked blankly, trying to make his expression as neutral as possible.

Nat whirled on the blonde, looking irate. “Clint! You knew it was him the whole time?”

Clint twirled a glass paperweight and shrugged. “I didn’t know for sure, but I suspected. If you’ve ever seen any of his stuff, it’s pretty much immediately recognizable.”

“So you’re saying you wasted police resources, and our own personal time, and never mentioned this? We woke up at 3:00 fucking AM that one time!” Nat said dangerously.

Clint looked sheepish. “I wasn’t 100% sure! You can’t go around accusing cool dudes of being maybe vandals without being 100% sure. And I had no idea Steve could scale a brick wall, like that. Damn, son.”

Bucky glanced panicked, between Clint and Fury’s office, his eyes wide.

Clint seemed to belatedly realize the issue and clapped his hands over his mouth.

Fury loomed in the window of his office. The man glared at the three of them with one disbelieving eye. “Please tell me you’re not openly discussing the identity of an at-large vandal and how with blatant disregard you wasted N.Y.P.D. time and money.”

They all frantically shook their heads no.

Fury grumbled to himself. “Now, stop talking about how Barnes lured a punk away from a life of art crime, and get the hell out of here.” He flipped his blinds shut aggressively and Bucky stared in mild horror at the shuttered window.

Nat patted his shoulder in reassurance. “That could have gone worse.”

“Definitely,” Barton agreed.

Nat glared at him and threw the plush, police poodle from her desk at his head. “You don’t get an opinion about this, dumbass. You owe me so much coffee.”

Barton caught the dog and squeezed so the little honk sounded. “Aw, come on. It was fun! We all got to hang out and work a case. And Buckaroo got a man.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Nat grabbed the poodle back. “You’re still buying my coffee for the next undeterminable amount of years.”

Barton held up his hands to appease her. “Fine, fine. What do I owe you, Bucky?”

Bucky was still gaping wordlessly at the darkened window. Barton nodded, “Yeah, you think on that. I’ll see you later!” He waved before heading out of the precinct.

Natasha glared after him and shook her head. “He is such a dumbass.”

Bucky finally looked away from Fury’s office. “But he’s our favorite dumbass.”

She nodded in agreement before sitting back down behind her desk. “Don’t talk to me for the next three hours. I have work to do.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows, but Nat already had ear buds in as she typed with intense focus, wafts of Cold War Kids blaring. He snorted and turned his own attention back to his paperwork.

When it was five o’clock they shut down their computers and Natasha grabbed his garment bag, shoving him into the locker room. Bucky changed into his suit. He stepped back into the hall, tugging his tie into place when Nat joined him.

“My, my, looking good, Officer Barnes,” she said standing back to take a look at him.

His eyes widened when he saw her dress, a shimmery, midnight blue number. “You look amazing, Nat,” he told her sincerely.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and smiled. “I’m waiting for the Anastasia cracks from Clint,” she said, offering her arm out. Bucky took it and they walked outside to hail a cab to the gallery.

The exhibition was in full swing when they arrived. A half-drunk Tony Stark waylaid Bucky after he was offered a glass of champagne. “You!” Stark said pointing at Bucky vigorously.

“You?” Bucky said back at him in confusion.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Rogers was looking for you.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, following where the man was gesturing broadly, explaining the layout of the gallery and what sort of tech system the lighting was linked through. “Wait, so it’s not an auto-timer, but a sensor for when people are in front of the pieces?” Bucky clarified, impressed.

Tony grinned and directed him to a panel, pushing a series of buttons. “Exactly, Barnes. Exactly! See, this circuit here is triggered. It’s not automatic. It’s not even a motion sensor. It recognizes the weight and can register how far away—,” his tirade ended when Pepper appeared, pinching Tony’s ear.

Pepper gave the tech genius a stern look. “Tony, honey. You can wow Bucky with science later, you were supposed to find him for Steve.”

“Found him,” Tony said brightly, tilting his head towards Bucky. Pepper was not impressed.

She turned towards Bucky and pointed to where Steve was partially visible standing behind a pillar.

Sam stood in front of him delivering what looked to be a pep talk mixed with an energetic, interpretive dance. When Sam started flapping his arms Bucky hurriedly made his way over.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked in concern, getting a look at Steve’s face. Panicked would be a charitable description.

“I don’t think I can go out there,” Steve said, eyes wide and anxious.

Sam put a reassuring hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Steve, all those people saw your graffiti. They’ve already seen your art.”

“They didn’t know it was me!” Steve objected faintly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky assured him. “Remember you told me why you did it? Your art is for the people, for everyone to enjoy. And they’re going to enjoy the hell out of it.”

Sam nodded enthusiastically. “Your talent levels are off the chart, man. You’re off the chart.”

“Okay,” Steve said, looking between the two of them before nodding. He took a deep breath, steeling himself and nodded once more. “Okay,” he said, more certainly.

He moved to step out towards the gallery and Bucky caught him by the jacket. He kissed Steve soundly before moving back and smoothing the fabric down, his hands lingering against Steve’s chest. “Go show ‘em your canvas,” he said grinning cheekily.

Steve’s face went red and he narrowed his eyes at Bucky before marching into the throng of people.

Sam sighed in relief beside Bucky. “Thanks for the save, I was running out of motivational poster quotes. My next option was ‘Yesterday you said tomorrow, just start meow’.”

Bucky barked out a laugh and grabbed a glass of champagne to pass along to Sam. “You earned that.”

Sam raised the glass in thanks. “You got that right.”

Nat appeared, smiling at Sam, “I will be right back.” Then she turned to Bucky, “But first, you need to see this.” She tugged at Bucky, leading him to the front and down the left wing.

They came to a stop in front of a painting that had Bucky blinking in surprise. He took a step back to get a better look. It was a huge canvas, soft tones spilling across the image of a police car in an alley, an officer with dark hair standing with his back to the viewer. The officer was nude, only holding a badge and a gun. The sidewalk below rippled and uneven, like the ocean, a grey-blue.

Nat smacked Bucky’s ass, startling him. He tore his gaze away from the image. Her smile was so terrifying Bucky took a step away. “Damn, Barnes. He’s upped the game. Your ass on display and water the exact color of your eyes. Don’t forget to drop your necklace into the ocean for him at the end.”

“That’s not me,” Bucky said, horribly unconvincing. It was obviously him. There was even expertly rendered scar tissue along his left shoulder in the painting.

He stared at the image before sighing, “Oh shit. I am Rose.” Nat cackled.

Bucky felt light-headed. He needed to find Steve. The piece was incredible. Steve was incredible. Bucky backed up and stumbled into another guest.

He began to apologize, but his voice died in his throat when he saw Chief Fury, arms crossed and eye scanning over the painting.

“Please tell me that you didn’t pose for this on duty,” Fury said dully.

“No, sir,” Bucky choked out. “It’s not me,” he tried to say again.

Fury rolled his eye. “I wasn’t born stupid, Barnes. Working with you all is what exposed me to that.”

“In my defense, sir, I was doomed from the start with Clint as my best friend,” Nat said.

Fury looked like he was about to agree, but turned back to the painting. “Tell your vandal boyfriend he’s talented.”

Bucky nodded immediately. “Yes, sir.” Fury looked at both him and Nat for a moment before continuing past them to talk to Pepper.

“Go,” Nat encouraged, her smile toned down from devious to something more satisfied.

Clint whooped from where he was sitting, balancing on one of the support beams in a grey suit. Bucky grinned at him and wandered through the guests to find Steve.

He stopped short when he saw him talking to an older woman, not wanting to interrupt. Darcy passed and plucked Bucky’s glass of champagne from his hand, then continued walking.

Peggy replaced the glass almost immediately, patting him on the cheek. “If only I’d known before what a nice behind you had,” she said, her tone wistful.

Bucky snorted. “You’re too good for me, Peggy.”

Peggy dimpled at him. She casted her eyes towards where Bucky was watching Steve. “That man is in love with you,” she observed.

Steve looked up and saw Bucky, his face splitting into a smile, immediate and bright. Bucky smiled back and Peggy leaned against his shoulder. “And you adore him just as much.”

She slipped away and Bucky took a sip of champagne, holding the glass up towards Steve and inclining his head. Steve’s smile got impossibly bigger and Bucky winked, flicking his eyes towards the exit.

He stepped outside, his breath coming out as condensed clouds in the cold air.

Bucky walked to the first wall Steve had painted, raising his fingers to brush against the brick, imagining what used to be there. He pulled out his Swiss army knife and focused on deliberately carving into the mortar.

“I’m going to have to call the police if you’re defacing that wall,” Steve said from behind him.

Bucky laughed and flipped the knife closed, tucking it away. Steve came up beside him to take a look. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the scratchings.

‘J.B.B. <3 S.G.R.’

Steve touched the markings, tracing them carefully. He opened his mouth and closed it again. “What are we? Twelve?” Steve shook his head fondly.  
“You’re a piece of work,” he finally managed, reaching down to tangle his fingers with Bucky’s.

“Literally,” Bucky said, raising his eyebrows and jerking his head back towards the gallery.

Steve ducked his head shyly. Bucky bumped his shoulder into Steve’s. “It was amazing, Steve. Although I’m pretty sure you’re idealizing me. No way my ass looks that good.”

“It really does,” Steve said, glancing downwards and nodding in confirmation.

Bucky rolled his eyes and pulled Steve back to the gallery. “Alright, I got you five minutes, but now it’s once more unto the breach.”

Steve nodded gamely and Bucky squeezed his hand, smiling as they went inside together.

**Author's Note:**

> ONCEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOOORE YOU OPEN THE DOOOOOOOOOOOOOR


End file.
